Frozen Hearts
by wolfluvermh
Summary: Elsa always did have an imaginary friend. She never told anyone, not her parents, not Anna, not anyone. But her magical friend was just like her. He would always insist that he was real, and that she was the only one who could see him. But even as a child, Elsa never believed him. Now, she's grown too old for such childishness... but Jack Frost isn't going away.
1. Our Mountain

**They're just so perfect that I couldn't help it. Sorry.**

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**Our Mountain**

Snowflakes are so beautiful.

The way they dance is elegant. The twinkling diamond fragments tend to reflect the glare of the orange sun. They spiral to the ground like tiny fairies, the swirling fall so lovely. When you catch sight of a single snowflake, you can truly admire its diverse beauty. But in a blizzard as such, the gentle flakes have a tendency to pass unnoticed amongst their brothers and sisters.

The sun is setting. Topaz and purple light reflects off the ice blanketing the usually chaotic waters. Painting over the sky in shades of pink and orange are shafting beams of fantastical light, each one refracting in the icy heart of a snowflake. Their auras turn the snowy white mountains the colors of a bright garden, and sweep the world in beauty that is not found in the summer months.

Elsa breathes in. The chill of the cold winter air is harsh to her lungs, and yet the frigid thrill is enticing. The snow crunches beneath her boot as Elsa takes another step forward. All around her, children laugh and play in the snow. Though she smiles from beneath her concealing hood, Elsa dares not join them in their frolic.

By order of her mother and father, Elsa is not supposed to wander beyond the castle walls. She is not allowed to see her kingdom from anything but partially shielded windows. In a sort of rebellion, Elsa had taken a habit of slipping past the guards on snow-licked days as such simply to wander and relish the sensation of freedom.

The adults meander at the edges of the plaza, each bustling about to do its own will. Filthy rags and ugly faces are hidden by the snow, becoming beautiful beneath the white flakes. All things are whitened by winter's embrace, and all things are beautified. Elsa lopes around the edges of the clearing, her smile becoming more and more genuine as she poignantly watches the caroling teens alongside the wobbling toddlers.

Something catches her eye. Elsa turns to face the children once more, the hood of her cloak still shadowing her eyes. Dancing among the frolicking children is a tall young man. He skates over the snow as if it were ice, a curled staff in one hand. A laugh is always resonating from his throat and a beatific grin wide over his face. But as the man swiftly glides through the children, they take no notice of him, as though he is a ghost, despite his constant flow of speech.

The man's voice fascinates Elsa. It's melodious and gentle, yet at the same time, filled with sparkling energy. Each sentence is accompanied by a mischievous laugh. His sparkling blue eyes glitter with the ingenuous joy of one who does not know the world as Elsa does. It attracts her to him, if only to set the man in his place and to tell him that the world isn't all laughter.

His eyes meet hers abruptly. Blue clashes against blue. Elsa gasps softly and hides beneath her cowl again, her pale cheeks beet red. She turns her back on the mysterious man and hustles quickly over the land. Her feet seemingly do not move quick enough over the ice. Fear sends her pulse racing.

"Hey, kid." Elsa freezes despite her best intentions at the man's voice. "Yeah, you. The one in the purple cloak."

Elsa shivers as though she could actually feel the algid nip of winter through her sheer covering. Her spine straightens as she pulls into a complete halt, but she dares not turn to look at the man's handsome face.

"Wait, hold on, you can hear me?" The man's voice is queer, as if this concept is strange and alien to him. "Like, see me, too?"

Elsa's tone is reedy with her fear. "Y-yes."

A gust of icy wind rifles her cloak, sending prickles up her arms and down her spine. Rabid fear takes ahold of Elsa, fueling her increase in panted breaths. She edges forward, attempting to escape the strange man before he can call attention to her subtle appearance. Already a few men glance at her oddly because of her small statement.

"Who are you?" demands the man from directly behind her.

Spooked, Elsa staggers forward and away from the man's voice. Her foot slips on the ice, her world turns upside down, and her small pale hands catch her on the coarse bricks. A sudden hush falls over the plaza as a cry of alarm leaves her lips. Starting to shrug herself back up, Elsa freezes with horror, realizing that the gazes of nearly everyone are focused on her.

Startling realization and horrified misery settles down upon Elsa's young shoulders as she recognizes that her purple cloak's hood had fallen in her moment of clumsiness.

"All hail, Princess Elsa of Arendelle!" cries a hoarse male voice from the back of the crowd. Elsa clumsily hauls herself from the ice, brushing off her cloak and blushing madly. Horror frosts the inside of her stomach. She cringes as all the people in the courtyard sink into low bows. Their humble postures spill beautiful snow from their backs, sending its cascading to the ground. A fearful hush falls over the people.

The man beside her breathes in sharply. Elsa sobs softly with quiet terror. Attention swivels to her, pressing and awful, watching her and waiting. She backs up, almost slipping over the ice again. Casting one hand out in front of her and one behind, Elsa backs away from the people. Her breath comes out in short, ragged gasps, and turns silver in the air before her. The hand angled backwards brushes against a cold brick wall. Elsa leans against the wall for a few meager seconds before the pressure of all the eyes on her finally cracking the frail resolve. A sob rasps from her chest, the cool air no longer feeling blissful along her throat.

Tears blur her vision. Without daring to glance back, Elsa turns on heel and rockets over the ice. Her gait is rocking and unsteady, and she stumbles often.

Elsa cares not where she runs to, nor who sees her race away. People cry out and dodge her as she races past. Her purple cloak flaps behind her like a sail. The burn of the winter air blowing in Elsa's face freezes her tears to her face. Through busy streets and abandoned ones alike she flees noisily.

Elsa's thoughts are a poorly constructed riddle of confusion. She thinks of what the villagers will assume. She thinks of the strange man with the staff, and how he had exposed her so. She thinks most of all of the disappointment in her parents' eyes as they'll look down at her with a brutal punishment fresh from their lips.

Elsa loses herself completely, pedaling mindlessly through the labyrinth of snowy streets. Trails of frozen tears trace down her cheeks, each icy track itchy and uncomfortable. Her boots slip repeatedly over the slick cobblestones. Each time, she lands on her hands, battering them more and more with every clumsy fall. With every topple, a fresh round of tears bursts from her throat.

Everything crashes down upon Elsa in a sudden heave as she's passing through a particularly shady alley. With a particularly throaty sob, Elsa collapses in the snow. The flakes brush her cheeks and massage her irritated eyes. Elsa's lashes brush the white powder as she shuts her lids, and her arms cup the snow in a despairing embrace. Her tears mix with the snow, and frost feathers up the nearest wall from Elsa's proximity.

"Don't cry. Please don't cry."

Elsa nearly jumps out of her skin. She whirls about, whipping her head from its snowy pillow. With wide eyes and a hand thrust out in front of her, she claps eyes upon the man who'd spoken to her earlier.

For the first time, Elsa really takes in the man's appearance. His face is finely sculpted, handsome and profiled. Frost webs over his brownish black cape. The man's bare feet are strangely not frostbit, though they are dusted in frost. His feathered hair is pure white like the icicles behind him, his pink lips are the color of the lovely sunset, and his blue eyes the shade of Arendelle's beautiful water in summer. The nooks on the staff he holds are frozen over with ice. His eyes are not fixed on her, strangely.

Elsa's heart skips a beat as she follows the man's gaze. He stares amazedly at where ice creeps up the black wall from Elsa's curse. Pain constricts her chest. Bitterly, Elsa glares at the ground at the man's feet.

"I'm a freak." Elsa's voice is defeated, even to her own ears. "I know it. Just… just don't tell anyone."

"You're not a freak," dismisses the boy the moment the words leave Elsa's lips. He crouches down, staff balancing in one hand, benevolent eyes at her level. "And you certainly don't need to be crying."

"You exposed me!" accuses Elsa. A sob catches in the back of her throat, choking her up. Tears prickle at the corners of her raw eyes. "I'm a monster! And you showed it to all of them!"

"You're not a monster," insists the boy. "And none of them noticed. Elsa of Arendelle, if you were a freak, I would be, too."

"You don't even know what it's like to be ignored!" weeps Elsa, tears freezing on her cheeks again. Her pent-up emotions swirl through her in a tumult of raging thoughts. "You don't know what it's liked to be unloved!"

The boy stiffens. His features blacken. "Kid, you're the only one that can see me. Who's ever been able to see me. I'm a hundred years old. It gets lonely. And, look, you're not a monster." He extends a hand, palm-up, expression softening again.

Elsa's sob cuts off suddenly. Her eyes widen until they are perfectly round in shape. She bolts upright from her lonely snowbank and watches in awe as a short plume of delicate snowflakes dance over the boy's hand. The snowflakes are abnormally large, each with the delicacy and size of a coin. They spout upwards in a twirling fountain, before slowly drifting back to the ground. He drops his hand, and smiles again.

"You're like me," she whispers in disbelief. Elsa's heart scarcely beats. "You can control snow."

"Yeah." The boy's smile is bold and brash. "I know you're Elsa of Arendelle, the princess. I'm Jack Frost. Nice to meet you."

He extends a hand in order for Elsa to shake it. Elsa inches forward, her boots crunching the snow. Cautiously, remembering her mother's lessons on stranger-danger, Elsa shakes it. His hand is huge compared to hers, and much more callused.

"Jack Frost," says Elsa slowly. His name across her tongue is both beautiful and alien. A smile touches the edges of her lips. With round eyes, she looks up at the older boy's pale and open face, searching for any signs of insincerity. "You said I'm the only one who can see you," Elsa notes. She tilts her head to the side, still maintaining her grip on his hand. "Why is that?"

The boy laughs with a gentle cadence. Something warm begins to glow beneath the ice sheathing his blue eyes. "You're smart for a six year old, aren't you? Well, Elsa –"

"I'm seven," inserts Elsa indignantly. The smallest beginning of a frosty tendril creeps over his skin, fueled by her burst of emotion, but Jack doesn't seem to care or even notice.

"Many apologies." Jack tips his head playfully, a chilled breeze ruffling his white hair. His pink lips toy with a smile. "I didn't mean to offend you. What I was going to say is, Elsa, I'm sort of a wanderer. A deity or whatnot. I can only be seen if people believe in me. You, for example, can accept the ice man because you're an ice girl. So, you can see me." Jack beams. "I can show you the most fun things in the world, if you'd like."

Elsa's eyes widen. Her heart tightens. His offer is so tempting, so beautiful. Underneath the convincing gaze of Jack, she can easily imagine herself dashing over the snow like a reindeer. She can imagine the fun. She can imagine ecstatic freedom she'd gain from running alongside Jack Frost.

Elsa knows that she shouldn't. She knows it in her heart. And yet, looking into his mischievous eyes, she cannot help but nod a quick yes to Jack's question.

* * *

Jack catches the little girl in the crook of his staff. The little blonde head had started to flail, her buoyant icy cloud diminishing. He hooks her beneath the arms, holding her weight midair. The girl squirms, as the hold his staff has on her is undoubtedly uncomfortable.

Dancing on the last shafts of sunlight, she regains her footing. Jack watches with a resilient grin as the cloud of snowflakes around her feet reinstates itself, strengthening more than it ever had before. The rising moon turns her breath silver in the air as it twirls away. Jack floats carelessly around her, assisting with a brumal gust where necessary.

"There you go!" he laughs, cheered by the child's first introduction to snow. "Just put one step in front of the other! There you go! Just like that! Careful! Good job, Elsa!"

Elsa's grinning face is framed by the alpine mountains behind her. Green pine trees turned black by the oncoming night pierce the snow blanketing this particular mountain range. Purple and blue dance over the snow casing the spires of blackened rocks. With impressive beauty, the mountains scrape the sky, tendrils of mottled black and white brushing the orange and pink of the setting sun.

Stray hairs fall from Elsa's perfectly combed braid. A smile curves at her face. Traces of her frozen tears remain, but those brief moments are long forgotten. The sight of her joyous smile sends a thrill of excitement through his gut, and it truly sinks in.

He's not alone anymore. This kid – Elsa the Princess of Arendelle – she can see him. She's like him, down to the frost and the loneliness. People can see her, and that's their only difference, excepting age.

Jack's glad that the kid's smiling. She'd been so miserable before. He'd had to do something to track her down, and their similarities had really affected that in no way. There'd been something about her wistful expression as she'd watched the children playing from the shadows that played across his heart.

"Hey, kid," offers Jack, reclining on his gust of icy wind, "you want to see my favorite place in all these mountains? It's best when the sun sets, you know."

Her sparkling blue eyes alight with even more fey bliss. "Could we?" she gasps, childish tone strangely heartwarming. "This is so amazing! I thought only birds could fly! But look! I'm flying!" She flails her arms like a bird in the sky herself, beaming proudly.

"Yup." He flicks his staff expertly, sending a spiral of snowflakes to steady her flight. "Like a bird. C'mon. Let's go!"

Their progress is frustratingly gradual. Though their sluggish speed again and again tries Jack's patience, he remains patient with the innocuous child to a point where he surprises himself. Her wonder at times slows her, but it's always a beautiful sort of stop. The child is fascinated by the simplest of things. She adores it when Jack sends tendrils of snowflakes to caress her face or toy with her blonde hair. Each time one of the frosty zephyrs brush her skin, her entire face brightens with a beautiful smile.

At long last, Jack touches down on the icy mountain. He reaches up and grabs Elsa by her tiny waist to set her upon the top of the peak, settling her even as her feet sink nearly a foot into the snow. Something guilty twinges inside him at the sight of her boots beneath the chilly snow. But the cold doesn't bother her, anyway.

The mountain Jack had selected is a slender one, rising from the others like a skinny pick. It's quite possibly the most gorgeous of them all. He sinks to his butt and lounges over the snow, bare feet hanging off the edge of a cliff, enjoying the view of the setting sun. Hesitantly, Elsa drops beside him, her boots dangling awkwardly.

"Wait for it…," he cautions her. Subconsciously, he lays his hand over her little fingers to keep Elsa patient. Her eyes the color of tropical waters graze over him and then return to the orange sun.

The last drop of sunlight slowly squeezes over the mountainous horizon, until only miniscule amounts of light remain. But that last drop is the most precious, the most beautiful of them all. The mountains are draped in exotic golden light as Sandy first enters the atmosphere. The snow burns amber. The blinding flare at first abuses my eyesight, forcing me to squint, but then turns gentle and elegant.

Elsa gasps. She wriggles her hand from out of beneath of his hand. Extending her fingers towards the sky, she sits transfixed, watching the golden light filter through her fingers. It turns her skin yellow and orange. "That's amazing," the girl whispers, childish awe evident in her high voice.

Jack cannot resist snorting rebelliously. "You think that's cool? Watch this!"

He lifts a hand, palm up, to the sky. Elsa watches with wide eyes fringed with elaborate lashes as a trail of feathery snowflakes erupt from his palm, swirling elegantly. The sound of her gasp brings a smile to Jack's lips.

The crystal snowflakes refract the golden light, casting yellow glitters over the albino snow. Elsa's hand is touched by the lights. The snowflakes glow golden, becoming little fairies as they drift peacefully to the ground and set down in the snow.

"Wow," whispers Elsa softly. Her hair is frosted in golden snowflakes, and her eyes reflect the ethereal luminance.

"Wow is right," Jack chuckles. The slight breeze ruffles through his hair, the crisp scent of the mountain causing Jack to instinctively shut his eyes and raise his head to allow the breeze to sweep me in its gentle embrace.

"Does the mountain have a name?" wonders Elsa to his left. Her voice is thoughtful, innocent.

"No." One pair of his eyelids peel open to peer at the girl. "Why?"

Elsa's eyes lightly brush the horizon as the golden light slowly slips behind the mountain scenery. She purses her lips thoughtfully, leaning on her hand. "Can we call it Our Mountain, Jack? Cuz you and I, we're the same?"

His heart melts a little. Swirling his staff expertly in one hand, Jack rises from the ground, spilling snow. He takes Elsa's tiny hand and smiles genuinely, gazing into her imploring blue eyes with a warm emotion bubbling in his chest. "Our Mountain sounds like a good enough name for me, Elsa."

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**Please tell me what you thought! Thanks! **

**Ciao,**

**~wolfluvermh**


	2. Wild and Conquerable

**Hello! Sorry it's been such a wait; boy, I've been busy! This is a really, really short chapter, but I guarantee that the next one won't be! **

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**Wild and Conquerable**

"Jack," Elsa whispers. Jack feels her tugging at his cloak, her little pale hands brutal around the fabric. He doesn't feel complied to answer, though; his eyes are trained on the beautiful mottled black sky, watching the stars inch through the heavens on their ancient cycle. The diamond speckles over the black shadows is beautiful, beautiful in the way a fallen angel is beautiful. The snow-weighed pine trees scraping the clouds also add an inspirational touch to it, their towering branches climbing towards the stars and the wide, wide moon.

"_Jack_," insists Elsa again, her voice cracking. She tugs sharply at his cloak.

A jolt passes through Jack's veins, alarmed by the fearful quality causing Elsa's usually thick voice to rise in pitch by such a margin. Instinctively, Jack places an arm in front of Elsa, guarding her against anything that may be frightening the girl. His attention swivels from the masterpiece of a night sky, focusing instead on the amber eyes of a wolf.

It doesn't stand in a particularly frightening way. The mane of silver crowning its head quivers in the wind. Against the white of the snow, its grey fur is seemingly darkened, but against the black of the trees, the pelt of the wolf seems almost white itself. The wolf, slinking about in the shadows of the trees, if anything is merely curious. However, in the eyes of many, the low prowl and the fangs curling at the corners of those black lips could be considered threatening and evil. The vivid gold of its large eyes doesn't help the wolf's case in the slightest.

Jack relaxes, patting Elsa's arm with reassurance. "She won't hurt you," he scolds, watching as the wolf's gaze slides from his own.

"How do you know?" whispers Elsa, but the same curiosity harbored in the wolf's demeanor is nestled into her tone.

Jack shrugs. His eyes trace the wolf as it pads in the distance, still always looping back to the clearing. He rests Elsa on one knee, leaning his head down to her ear.

"Well, most people just assume that the wolf is a wild creature. Which it is, of course. As wild as wild can be. But most people assume that's a bad thing. No, wolves know respect, and they know dignity. Sounds weird, I know. But… once you show dominance to a wolf, it's never going to attack you or stab you in the back. They're loyal companions, like man's best friend. The wildness in their spirits just scares most people off. Understandably so. But still. It's prejudiced."

Elsa's blue eyes turn to him, the startlingly bright shade sending a shiver down Jack's spine. He shifts her weight, balancing Elsa on one knee and awaiting the inevitable questions.

"How do you know that?" she inquires, voice loud in the vacant forest. "It would've taken a fool to approach a wolf!"

"Well," chuckles Jack, "I act like a fool often, or so people tell me. I just like wolves. They're cool. They can see me, so… I find myself chilling around them."

"They can see you?" Elsa's tone is thoughtful, and her gaze lands on the wolf coming back around for another round. "Like I can see you?"

"Yeah," Jack agrees, nodding his head. "I suppose." After a second of thought, his fingers tap Elsa's forearm. Lowering his lips to Elsa's tiny ear, Jack whispers, "Do you want to meet the wolf?"

Elsa flinches. Her eyes are wide, like an owl's. "No!" Elsa exclaims, her voice abruptly loud in the silence of the peaceful forest. Somewhere, a bird lifts off suddenly from a branch, powdering snow on the startled wolf below and flapping off into the sky.

"Live a little!" Jack insists. He releases a slow breath, watching as it fogs before his face and drifts into the night, unreachably high in the sky. "Look, I'll be there right in front of you. If the wolf lunges, I'll scoop you up, and we'll never come to this part of the forest. But if you don't take this opportunity, you'll be wondering for the rest of your life what you're missing."

Elsa's hesitation is painful. At last, with the speed of a glacier, Elsa nods, her eyes still skeptical of the wolf.

"C'mon," Jack coaxes. He stands and grabs her small hand, lacing their fingers together. When he stands, Elsa seems petite, her head only reaching his hip. Her wide, expressive eyes turn to him, seeking comfort. Jack, stirred by her search for security, squeezes her fingers.

"Approach it slowly," orders Jack. "Slowly, not cautiously. Square your shoulders, lift your chin. Look it straight in the eye. That's the way! Remember, you're king – I mean princess – and this wolf is just an animal. An intelligent animal, maybe, but an animal all the same. You're at the top of the food chain, and it's still scrounging for scraps. Do not let it smell fear."

Elsa nods. He can feel the quiver in her muscles, but he can't see it; Elsa is remarkable at masking her fear in the presence of the wolf, and, by all logical purposes, she does not look like a princess before the beast.

She looks like a queen.

Jack's eyes are involuntarily drawn to Elsa. She stands with her head held high and her eyes filled with the very ice she knows so well. A battle takes place before him, a battle of wills, blue against gold. The wolf is not willing to submit, but Elsa is as stable as an icy wall.

Tension is thick in the air. Neither force is willing to break the wall of concentration, nor to break gazes.

At long last, the wolf lets out a submissive huff. Its tail droops and its ears slouch. In a gesture of submission, the wolf turns its eyes downcast and tilts away its head, refusing to meet Elsa's glare.

Elsa's surprise is evident over her pale face. "Was that all?" she wonders.

Jack neglects to mention that the wolf hadn't been all that interested in showing Elsa up, keeping positive. "Good job, Elsa!" he crows, exuberant pride swallowing the discontent resting at his heart. "You're getting braver and braver, each time we meet!"

"And you're getting nicer!" Elsa wraps her arms around Jack's legs, her grip strangling. "I wish everybody was like you, Jack."

Jack's heart flutters. He lays a hand on top of Elsa's blonde hair, gently stroking her locks and setting them into place as she rocks from side to side, his legs ensnared in her gentle embrace. Her arms make his knees cave slightly, but that seems to be a minor detail. A lump builds in his throat, though he'd never let Elsa see that.

"I wish everyone was more like wolves," admits Jack candidly. "That way, I'd always be able to understand them."

"I'm like a wolf," says Elsa quietly, her voice unreadable.

Jack smiles, lips quirking back. "Yeah, Elsa, I'd daresay you are."

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**Alright, so, those 20/30 followers I have on this story: leave a review, even if it's "Good story" or whatnot. I do notice that, y'know. **

**On my other stories, I put a poll at the end of the chapter to help hone my writing. POLL: Do you think Elsa's character as a child is believable, or am I off the mark?**

**Ciao,**

**~wolfluvermh**


	3. Hiatus

**We're back! And this chapter is lengthy!**

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**Hiatus**

"Go away, Anna!" cries Elsa through the white wooden door. Her annoyance is thick in her voice.

Through the other side, Anna seems weary. "Okay, bye…," Elsa's ridiculous sister sings. The pad of Anna's footsteps waddles off, creaking down the hall on unbalanced soles.

Elsa cracks the door to watch as her sister's head of red hair creeps off, fitting one blue eyeball through the slit. Her hands are ready at the cold knob, ready to slam the door if her sister shows even the slightest inclination of turning. Ice feathers the door. After Anna disappears safely down the hall, rounding a corner at the far side, Elsa retreats back inside her room. The door shuts behind her with a soft click.

Delight playfully bats at Elsa's heart, each blow as tender as a kitten's paw. She races to the large window, the sight of ice already frosting the crystalline panes filling her with ecstasy. Elsa skips over the hindrances in her path, avoiding the furniture of the room.

Elsa's eyes widen as a figure drifts in front of the window, her grinning broadening to match the smile over his pale face. Hurriedly, she unlatches the window, ignoring the ice webbing over the surface of the glass. Excitement sends her heart hammering, the eagerness causing her fingers to move jerkily over the wood. She throws open the window, releasing a warm puff of air and relishing the cool breeze that overtakes her.

Elsa stands back, smiling and sealing her eyes shut as the frosty air rides in through the window. She feels something fly past her closed eyes, but still, Elsa does not open them until the last of the winter's chill pours into her stagnant room, the bitter freedom of ice's mauling talons ripping her hair from her braid.

When at last the fury of the wind seems to calm, Elsa opens her eyes and turns to see Jack floating along her ceiling harmlessly. That staff is slung over his shoulders, tapping the walls and sending feathers of snow over the room. His blue eyes are bored, bored and dull. The spacy frown pulling at his lips is alien to Elsa.

"You finished?" he remarks dryly.

Stung, Elsa straightens her back, balling her fists and lifting her chin. "Why do you care?"

"I prefer to live my days doing interesting stuff." He sets down on a nearby chair, turning the cushion into a block of ice. "Feeling the wind isn't very entertaining. Watching someone else feel the wind is awful."

Elsa huffs, miffed. "You're a very rude imaginary friend."

Jack freezes, his eyes blackening. Instead of twirling his staff in his hands, he braces his grip, closing his fists around the frosted wood. His jaw tightens, and his feet splay into a defensive position. Instead of merry tones, his voice is feral and deep. "I _am_ real."

Elsa's arms cross, a visible signal of her frustration. "Prove it," she dares, eyes cold and pouty lip prudent.

Jack growls like an animal and shakes out his white hair. "I can't," he admits. A new fire shines beneath the layer of ice. Perching on the arch of the padded chair, he extends a hand towards Elsa, pale palm to the sky and fingers awaiting another hand. "Unless, of course, you'd like to take another trip to Our Mountain."

All thoughts of argument devoid in Elsa's childish mind, she grins from ear to ear. Gaze flickering to the window and then back to Jack, a giggle erupts from her throat. After so long of being cooped up in this dull room with Anna knocking and her parents lecturing, the thought of swooping over winter-licked mountain peaks is blissful. She scurries forward, beaming at Jack, and takes his smooth hand.

With a laugh like a peal of bells, Jack summons the winds, his staff twisting powerfully in one hand. Elsa sucks in a breath as the snow assaults her face, ecstatically cherishing each snowflake sticking to her fringing eyelashes. She laughs, joining him in the flight away into the night sky.

* * *

"When will you come again?" Elsa's childish voice is thoughtful. She leans on her hand, staring out the window and eyeing the retreating frost with distaste. "Soon, right?"

Jack grins at Elsa, his heart warmed by the child's spirit. "Yeah. I'll come back when there's a good snow again. I've got to leave spring to the bunny, unless I want Easter eggs coating the snowmen." Elsa stares at him with a blank expression. "I suppose you don't have the bunny here. He'll love to hear that."

"Promise you'll come back soon," insists Elsa stubbornly, turning to catch Jack's gaze. Her azure eyes seem fractured with differing shades of blue, each catching the moonlight with a different luster. "Promise."

"I promise," vows Jack. He shakes his head in amusement, smiling at Elsa. The gradually ebbing tide of snow worries him only slightly. "Hey, make it snow sometime so I can visit, okay?"

Elsa seems doubtful, her lean eyebrows pinching. "My parents don't like it when I do that. It could hurt Anna. _I_ could kill Anna."

"But you won't." Jack tousles her pale blonde hair one last time, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Her silky locks seem to jump right back into place. Balancing precariously on the edge of the roof, Jack turns back to Elsa one last time. Saluting mockingly, Jack farewells, "Trust me, kid, we'll meet again. No way I'll leave you alone."

* * *

"No," resists Elsa. She curls up in a ball on her bed, tears blurring the edges of her vision. Her heart writhes with emotion, frost twisting over the blankets.

With troubling certainty, her father nods, his mouth twisted into a firm line. "Elsa, I'm sorry, but we're not leaving your window open. It's too dangerous, if some boisterous man is really climbing in your window."

"No!" denies Elsa. Her mind works feverishly, jumping for an excuse to leave the window unlatched. "No! He's just my imaginary friend! I speak to him sometimes because I don't have anyone else to talk to! He's harmless!"

"Then I don't see why we can't lock the window," points out Elsa's father logically. He shakes his head in apology, rising from the corner of her bed. "I'm sorry, Elsa. But anyone finding out what you really can do would be a disaster. You don't know how to control your powers."

His boots hit the wooden boards with a constant rhythm. Without looking back or even dropping a hint that his stern attitude is merely a fatherly teaching, Elsa's father exits, closing the white wood door behind him.

Mischief worms its way into Elsa's mind. Carefully, she tucks herself beneath the thick covers. The rigid sheath of frost crumbles slightly, melting and dampening the fabric into a disgusting soggy mass. Still, Elsa lies still, her head resting on the plush pillow. Her eyelids are barely fluttered shut, a thin crescent of sight still accessible. Anxiously, her fingers knit and unknit from her sheet.

At last, the sliver of golden light disappears from underneath the doorway.

Elsa explodes from her bed, dashing towards the window. Her fingers shake from the adrenaline. Something as risky as this is something that only Jack would dare to do. That thought hurries her progress on undoing the latch.

Hurriedly, Elsa retreats back to her bed, landing with a squeal of mattress onto the bed. She worms back underneath her covers, grinning to herself, the thrill of perilous rebellion still sending her pulse rattling.

"It's okay, Jack," she whispers, nestling into the soggy sheets with a sense of contentment. "I'll open it every night if I have to. You just come back."

* * *

Elsa gasps at the window. Her fingers press lightly against the foggy window, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Last night, she'd forgotten to unlock the door. What if Jack had come in the middle of the night at last, and had been unable to enter? What if he'd left?

Elsa cranes for the latch, her fingers barely hooking over the metal. She begins to tug down, to release the window.

But then Elsa pauses. Her fingers freeze and her mind stills, pausing to study one little fact. It's winter again, with snow blanketing the ground and frost feathering over her windows. But there is no Jack.

Despair clutches Elsa's heart. She rocks back on her heels, fingers slipping from the metal. Elsa presses her forehead against the algid glass, letting her breath send flowers of frost over the surface. With a wistful spirit, Elsa watches the ice cloud the glass.

Jack had taught her the frost.

Maybe, just maybe, Jack doesn't exist.

"Prove me wrong," whispers Elsa against the glass, drowning in hopelessness.

* * *

"You don't have to lock it." Elsa's voice is weak.

Her father turns, his brow scrunched. From the pale doorway, Elsa's mother's head turns up to stare at Elsa. "What do you mean?" questions Elsa's father suspiciously, crossing his arms. "Is this trickery, Elsa?"

Elsa squirms in her sheets. She bunches them around her legs, running her fingers over the silky fabric of her cover. Nervous sorrow envelopes her heart, weighing it down and dragging it to the rock bottom. As her parents had taught her, Elsa straightens her posture and lifts her chin. Folding her hands over her lap, Elsa nods curtly, her face twisted into the impassive indifference of a princess.

"I'd never lie to you, father." Elsa nods obediently to her mother. "Or you, mother. Besides, I've – I'm over that stage. There never was a boy. No one came in my window and showed me frozen waterfalls or snowy mountains, no one took me to see wolves. I was a child then. A child with impossible dreams. Jack Frost is a ridiculous fairytale."

Her father's gaze is still suspicious, and his fingers still curl the lock into its slot. "Just in case," he declares, patting the window pane.

Elsa nods, her throat catching. "Just… in case."

* * *

The last golden tear slides beneath the horizon, submitting to the moon's shadowed watch.

Jack's hold on this land is as tentative as a newborn's grip on its mother's finger, as delicate as each of the frail snowflakes fluttering to the ground on their first journey to this new world. Ice encroaches the dark water, stilling the choppy waves in silver. Ugly black streets are coated in a sheet of white, and imperfections are hidden beneath the snow. It's been far too long since Jack's seen these elegant spires clawing at the grey sky, too long since Jack navigated the labyrinthine scrawl of city streets.

Distant mountains constantly capped with snow white hats are being cloaked in blizzards as well. Yellow lights of ships safely docked in the harbor reflect off the inky water and platinum snow. The wind is sharp and riddled with excitement, the rapid movement of the currents reflecting Jack's own eagerness.

Arendelle holds peace in its grasp as Jack dances over the wind. Children look up to the sky with mouths agape, toothy grins bared to the descending snowflakes. Jack grins, running his staff along rooftops to create brumal art over the shingles. The winter wind fondles his hair, welcoming him back to the beautiful kingdom.

Though the streets are filled with devious tricks and the frolicking children are abundant, Jack longs to see the face of one and one alone. He sets his course for the lavish castle, soaring over to one rejected windowsill.

A pang of raw memories throbs in Jack's gut as he gracefully dances like a shadow over the towers, a trail of frigid snow nipping at his heels. Silence coats the air here, far from the comforting ruckus of a city street, in both day and night. His hair is toyed with by the wind.

The lonely windowsill isn't that well determined from the others, but Jack knows it by heart. His feet brush the shingles, ice webbing the grey. Through the rapidly freezing window, he peers. The bed is just out of view, only the slightest edge of the comforter visible. A lilting voice sings, muffled, through the window. Swinging his staff into his opposite hand, Jack rests his fingers on the pane, nudging it.

The window does not open.

Jack shoves into it, his attempts as silent as possible, as not to ruin the surprise.

The window is locked.

Puzzled, Jack lifts his fist and raps it against the pane, frozen glass brutal to his knuckles. The singing inside cuts off suddenly, a large silence following. Behind the frost-obscured glass, a figure moves. The click of a latch unhooking rings through the still night.

Jack nudges the window open when the figure moves back. The hinge swings the glass back, and moonlight pours into the small room.

A girl stands before him, her pink lips parted with surprise. Bright blue eyes shine in the darkness of the room, lids blinking repeatedly to ward off the sudden light. Her blonde hair is tightly strapped into a neat braid, her cheeks pale as the snow, her lashes long and beautiful. Elsa tears her hand down, gawking at him.

"Jack?" Elsa breathes. Her eyes are as wide as blue coins. "What are you doing here?"

"Repaying a promise." Jack's grin is crooked, and he sails through the window. Elsa's mouth drops open, a hand quickly lifted to cover her maw. Her bright, bright blue eyes trail him, following Jack's progress as he sets down lightly upon the same chair. The feel of the wood beneath his bare feet is welcoming, and yet, the look in Elsa's eyes is not.

"You're late," whispers Elsa, her voice etched with sadness. "A bit too late."

A frown crumbles Jack's expression. "What do you mean?"

Elsa smiles sadly. "I've given up trying to use my powers, Jack. I can't fly with you anymore."

* * *

**Elsa is starting to grow up. Sadness. **

**And Jack left her alone. **

**POLL: Anybody see the song in the beginning of this fanfiction?**

**Ciao,**

**~wolfluvermh**


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